


Five Stories from the 2015 Advent Calendar

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:36:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8802931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: I was honored to have five stories accepted for Flamingo's StarskyHutchArchive.net 2015 Advent Calendar. ( http://starskyhutcharchive.net/advent/2015/ )I'm posting them here in the order they appeared.





	1. Questions and Answers

**Author's Note:**

> Three separate drabbles about 'the first time.' They appeared behind Door #3 of the calendar.

“Hutch…”

“Hmmm?”

“Why did we wait so long?”

“Well… maybe… because… it wasn’t the right time.”

“The stars weren’t aligned?”

“Something like that.”

“The omens were inauspicious?”

“Indubitably.”

(Silence)

“Scared, you think?”

“Probably.”

“Didn’t want to ruin what we had?”

“Definitely.”

“It won’t, you know.”

“I do now.”

(More silence)

“Hutch?’

“Hmmm?”

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Because you looked like you needed it, Starsk.”

“I guess I did, but… This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“Because… I hoped… maybe… it was the right time.”

(Silence)

“Hutch?”

“Hmmm?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome…. My love.”

“Hmmm.”

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

“Starsk?”

“Hmmm?”

“When did you know?”

“When you kissed me.”

“An hour ago?”

“No. In the hospital.”

“You remember that?”

“I was unconscious, Hutch, not dead. (chuckle) I’d just gotten over being dead.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“The mustache felt weird. But it was the sweetest, most caring, loving kiss I’d ever known. My heart flew right into your hand. It’s been there ever since.”

“Hmmm.”

“When did you know?”

“When I woke up and saw your name on the window.”

“Really?”

“Should we send Gunther and Callendar thank you notes?”

“No.”

“I love you, Starsk.”

“Love you, too, Hutch.”

“Hmmm.”

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

“What do we do now?”

“Pretend it never happened?”

“Not an option.”

“Get married?”

“Not yet an option.”

“Would you?”

“In a heartbeat.”

(Silence)

“So, what do we do now?”

“Check into a clinic?”

“For ‘the cure’?”

“Yeah.”

“Hypnosis, electroshock treatments, heterosexual porn flicks twenty-four/seven, sex therapy with gorgeous… therapists.”

“You’ve read the brochures.”

(More silence)

“Do you want to be ‘cured’?”

“No… Do you?”

“Never.”

“We’ll be discrete.”

“Careful.”

“Circumspect.”

“No touching in public.”

“Now, wait a minute...”

“At least no kissing.”

“Okay.”

(Silence)

“And as soon as it’s an option?”

“I do.”

“Me, too.”

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm.”

 

END


	2. Merry Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, gentle Holiday piece. This was behind Door #6.

“Merry Christmas, Hutch.”

My lover, my partner, my best friend in the whole world opens his sky blue eyes and looks at me. A smile blossoms on his beautiful face. “Right back atcha, babe.”

I get lost in those eyes, again. I can’t seem to convince myself it’s real, that he’s here, in my apartment, in my bed. In my heart and soul. He’s been my other half for years but now, with the advent of our love, he’s become my life. And I’m so incredibly happy I can’t get over how full and complete I feel all the time. I seem to need feedback though. 

“Are you happy, Hutch?” 

The gorgeous ocean-deep eyes widen a little. “Don’t I look happy?” 

I can’t resist a smirk. “You look sated.”

He playfully punches my arm, then snuggles against my chest. “The credit for that is entirely yours.” He runs his long fingers through my chest hair, an activity he apparently enjoys and which makes me shiver. He knows how much I love it so he slows his ministrations, purring sexily deep in his throat. 

“But that’s not what I asked,” I persist, doing my best to keep my voice level and my libido unaffected by what he’s doing . “Are you happy?”

Hutch draws back and looks at me, perplexity now in his expression. He sits up and pulls the covers around his shoulders; it’s a little chilly this morning. Even in sunny Southern California, late December can be coolish. “Why so serious, partner?” 

I sit up against the headboard, pulling the Torino Red With Blinding White Border feather-soft afghan he gave me last night around me. I gather him back in my arms and wrap him in the comfort, too. “It’s our first Christmas together and…”

He tilts his head up and kisses me lightly. “You mean together, together.”

I blush. I can’t help it. This phase of our relationship is still so new, and so different, I have a hard time thinking about it, much less talking about it. “Well, yeah,” I admit.

“And it’s got you spooked?” 

“No!” My denial is immediate. I can’t let him get the wrong idea. I’m going about this badly, never had a talent with words. Not like Hutch. He can say anything, anytime. Me? I’m always fumble-tongued. “No, Hutch, it’s not that at all.” He waits patiently. I pull him tighter against me and stroke his lean, muscled back. God, I love touching him. 

I try to get my thoughts arranged and make another attempt. “It’s just that, after Gunther, I thought I might never be truly happy again. But here we are, less than a year later I am so incredibly happy, I need to know you are, too.” 

I shrug an apology because that was a really silly, stupid thing to say. “Not just goin’ along with this whole lovers thing because it was my idea and you don’t want to hurt my feelings.”

Hutch sits up, pulling the blankets up around his shoulders. He stares at me, his expression intense but kind. “As I recall, Mr. Starsky,” he begins, softly, “I was the one who kissed you the first time. It was my idea.”

“Yeah, but --”

He puts the fingers of his right hand over my lips and stops my response. “I kissed you, Starsk.” He smiles beatifically. “Remember?”

I grin under his fingers and draw them into my mouth. He gasps a little but leaves them there. I suck and lave and nibble, watching his eyes go fuzzy and his breathing deepen. Oh, my Hutch, you’re such a joy to love.

I mumble around his long, strong digits. “You only kissed me because I’d been wanting you to. Trying to get you to read my mind.”

Gently, he retrieves his hand, putting the wet fingers in his own mouth and tasting me. Then he moves the hand under the covers and finds my cock. He had to have known I was already hard, even though the covers up around both our shoulders concealed the evidence. 

“Starsky,” his voice is husky with need, “if I was any happier, neither of us could stand being around me.”

“I guess I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” I say, my voice matching his desire.

He pulls me to him, smothering my uncertainties with his love. 

“Merry Christmas, Starsk.”

 

END


	3. Our Lucky Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interminable stakeout and a dubious crossword puzzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story appeared behind Door #9.

Stakeouts always seem endless when there’s nothing happening. We’re in my car because Captain Dobey specifically vetoed the Torino. 

“Absolutely no place within sight to hide that carnival ride!” he’d roared. That was a given, of course, but hardly anybody ever verbalized it. 

So here we are, half a block from Gene Carmody’s house, waiting to see if the known murderer would be stupid enough to return after he’d managed to elude the take down last night in the Sixth. Criminals are admittedly dumb at times, so no possibility could be overlooked. Starsky and I had drawn the next-to-shortest straw. We had the noon-to-eight shift. Babcock and Simmons got the eight-to-four. Night stakeouts are worse, in my opinion. 

“What’s a nine-letter word for ‘two organisms that live off each other’?” Starsky’s out-of-left-field question breaks the silence.

I keep the binoculars to my eyes, while I think a moment. “Symbiosis.”

In my peripheral vision, I see Starsky bend his curly head over the folded newspaper on his knees. He pencils letters into a crossword puzzle. It’s spring and daylight is staying around longer. It won’t be dark until after we’re gone so, thankfully, no dome light will be needed.

“Knew you’d know.” He fills in the last few empty squares across a line. “Okay, here’s one… another nine-letter word that means ‘boon friend’.”

I wonder where he’s going with this. We have two more hours and it sounds as if he’s making up clues. And Starsky doesn’t even like crossword puzzles.

I lower the binocs and look at him. He’s gazing at me with his patented innocent puppy-dog eyes but I know he’s up to something. “Companion,” I offer, quietly.

“Ah, right!” He’s back over the newspaper again. 

I can see he’s printed letters over dark squares and even over other letters. He’s obviously not doing a real puzzle. Hmmmmmm. He’d been antsy during the entire first six hours of our watch for Carmody, but suddenly, he’s concentrated on his spurious word game. I can’t read the scribblings he’s got penciled in the margin but two of them are crossed off. Two aren’t.

“‘Logical next step’,” he quotes, looking up again. “Eleven letters, beginning with ‘p’.”

I put the binoculars to my eyes again and check to see if anything’s changed at the suspect’s place. Nope, nothing. We knew this was a wasted effort, the guy’s not coming back here. But Dobey said we had to cover all bases, so here we are, stuck for another, I check my watch, hour and fifty minutes. I lower the glasses and look at my expectant friend. “Progression.”

He smiles, happily, and writes it down. He also crosses off another of the margin scratchings. 

“What’s goin’ on, Starsk?” I’m finally unable to keep the question inside.

He glances up at me. “What makes you think something’s going on?” 

I turn back to what I’m supposed to be doing, which is watching Carmody’s building. “Nothin’.” I can wait as patiently as anybody else.

After several quiet minutes of printing, then erasing letters, probably staring out his side window, breathing quietly and thinking loudly, I can feel him looking at me again. “A ten letter word for ‘bound to happen’?” 

I keep the binoculars in place but heave a genuine sigh. Oh shit, he knows. Somehow, he’s seen through all the layers of subterfuge I’ve been applying to our relationship recently. I think about him all the time. I dream about him, fantasize about him. Us. Together. More closely than we’ve ever been before. And he knows.

“Inevitable.”

He writes the word on his black and white squares. “Yeah.”

I lower the glasses and look at the face I see in my dreams, the face I love. “Why now, Starsk?”

He smiles shyly. “Because we’ve got…” He glances at his watch. “An hour and thirty more minutes of this silly stakeout left and you can’t run away.” His smile exudes naked happiness. “You can’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“No, I can’t.” 

“Why’d you try to hide it, Hutch?” he asks, clearly confused. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to make that inevitable progression?” He looks at me with a depth of feeling in his eyes I’ve never seen before. “My symbiotic friend. My boon companion.”

He looks so pleased with himself, I smile into those indigo blues. “I didn’t actually try to hide it, Starsk.”

“Okay,” he agrees, reluctantly. “Maybe hide was the wrong word.” He glances down at the paper on his knees, then up at me again. “And here I was, playing word games with you. ‘Deflect me’ then, how’s that? Every time I tried to bring up the subject.”

“Deflect’s a good word, partner. Delay, stall, wait. All those procrastination sentiments.”

“You thought I wasn’t ready, didn’t you?” Starsky poses the inquiry, gently. “Figured if you told me how you felt, it might ruin everything.”

“That idea did seem to have some merit.”

“Well I’m ready, and it won’t!” Starsky states, unequivocally. “We’ve loved each other forever, Hutch. It’s time we started lovin’ each other!”

He adds the lop-sided grin he knows I can’t resist to the intensity in his eyes and it makes me shiver. It also makes me rock hard within a heartbeat. He sees it, too. He stares at my crotch and his smile turns positively wicked.

“Oh, my sweet Hutch,” Starsky murmurs, “stiffening up. For me.” He reaches a hand toward my groin but, having caught movement out of the corner of my eye, I catch it and squeeze tenderly.

“Hold that thought, partner,” I say, forcing my hormones down. Adrenaline is quickly taking their place. “We’ve got company.”

He looks out the windshield to where Gene Carmody is nonchalantly walking toward his house.

“Our lucky day, Hutch.” Starsky throws the newspaper on the floor and reaches for the door handle. His Beretta is already in his hand. “We drew this shift, you know. In the ‘How Stupid is Carmody?’ pool.”

“I know.” I unsnap the safety strap on my holster. “Didn’t figure we had a chance.”

“Guess there’s always a chance then, huh, partner?” There’s more emotion in Starsky’s simple words than I can fathom right now. 

Later, babe, I silently promise both of us.

The arrest of Eugene Carmody, paroled murderer and suspected current killer, goes without a hitch. It’s almost embarrassing how easily it’s accomplished. Starsky and I collect the $110 office pool. Our lucky day, indeed.

But it’s after the guy’s booked and processed, the paperwork done and on Dobey’s desk, and Starsky has locked the front door of his apartment behind him, that I truly discover how lucky I am. And how loved.

 

END


	4. A Loopy Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 1990 short film, “12:01,” spawned numerous variations on the theme: being caught in a time loop. “Groundhog Day” is probably the best known example but there were episodes of “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” “The X-Files,” a segment of “Buffy, the Vampire Slayer,” and a “Stargate SG-1.” There may have been others, but those are the ones I saw. Anachronistically, I wondered how Starsky and Hutch would react to being caught in a similar situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story appeared behind Door #17

FIRST LOOP - Hutch

The mall was a zoo! Why did Starsky and I leave things so late? We’d never find anything now, it was only two days until Christmas. But we hadn’t had a day off in weeks, what with court appearances and stakeouts and hours and hours of paperwork. Not to mention last week’s major bust of the Donelli Family’s operation. 

Dobey finally took pity on us and gave us tonight. Of course, it helped that we said we’d do our best to find the two items he had yet to get for Cal and Rosie: a Light It Up light saber and a walking, talking Princess Leia doll, improved 1980 version. Where in this mess we were going to find them though, was anybody’s guess. 

Starsky was in his element. His eyes sparkled and he bounced on the balls of his feet. If only I could bottle his energy at this time of year, the world could live off it the other three hundred sixty four days. 

“Hey, hey, Hutch! Look at this, will ya?” My late-thirties-going-on-twelve partner was staring into the toy store window. Inside, several model trains were running, simultaneously, around a complicated track, weaving onto and off of each other’s rails, over bridges and through tunnels. Engines sometimes missed cabooses by mere inches. It appeared to be the proverbial wreck waiting to happen, but the circuits continued without mishap. 

I walked over to my best friend and put my hand on his shoulder, watching the chugging models with him. It made me happy to see Starsky full of joy. I’d buy the whole set up for him, if I could, to keep that smile on his face.

He reached up, took my hand off his shoulder and spun, his fingers still gripping mine. “Didja see how close those….?” He looked in my eyes and something he saw there made him freeze. He caught his breath and dropped my hand as if he’d been burned. 

I found myself unable to breathe. I had wanted us to take the next logical step in our relationship for a very long time, but had kept putting off the moment when I’d ask him his thoughts on the idea. Maybe that moment would never come and that was okay. What we had was too important, and too good, to risk. So I had kept my feelings to myself. I thought. But Starsky saw something and it triggered a light in his eyes I’d never seen before. 

He stared at me, only inches separating us, in the middle of the night-before-Christmas-Eve madness. The canned carols being piped through the sound system much too loudly, blared in my ears. I was jostled by shoppers who never bothered to apologize. I felt as if I was in the eye of a hurricane, or a tornado. Everything around us swirled but I was lost in Starsky’s eyes. 

I know I wanted to kiss him so badly I guess I was leaning forward. I’m pretty sure he was tilting toward me.

But at the very last moment, something made me realize where we were, and who we were. I straightened up quickly. 

Starsky must have had the same epiphany because he stepped back at the same time I did. His face mirrored the flush I was sure mine showed and his eyes held near panic. 

Seeing rapid movement in my peripheral vision, I looked into the store where two boys were tussling over the train controls, shouting at each other. Adults converged, issuing orders and gesticulating. One of the boys threw a switch, while the other tried to prevent him from doing it and, in the struggle, other buttons were pushed, switches thrown. 

Starsky and I watched, helplessly, as the massive wreck I had feared was coming, happened. Three multi-car models met at the same intersection. Chaos reigned.

 

SECOND LOOP - Starsky

Why, oh why, did we wait so long to do this? Hutch had wanted to come last night but I was so tired from a grueling day on the witness stand, I had only wanted to go home, eat pizza, drink beer, and fall into bed.

So here we were at the mall, two nights before Christmas. Along with half a million other crazed shoppers, we were trying to find the perfect gift for each other, plus the two items Captain Dobey asked us to buy. The music was so loud, tinny and hyper-happy, it nearly made me sick. I usually love Christmas carols and Winter Wonderland stuff. Not tonight. 

Hutch was staring intently at a gorgeous folk guitar in the window of the music store. His had been in the repair shop for weeks. Diana Harmon had destroyed his beloved six-string years ago, so Huggy, Dobey and I had gotten together to find a replacement that was as close a match as possible. 

Hutch had told us all he loved it, but I could tell, every time he played it, that something wasn’t quite right. A few weeks ago he’d discovered what. The frets had been set so deeply in the neck, hairline cracks had developed under them. It was probably why the captain, Huggy and I had been able to afford the thing. Hutch had been lucky to find a guy dedicated to repairing worthwhile instruments. He said it might take months though, before he could find a suitable piece of wood for the new neck.

I’d give anything if I could buy him the one he was staring at. 

Hutch turned suddenly and caught me looking at him. His expression was one of such longing, I almost stopped breathing. I wanted to take him in my arms and hold him, keeping all disappointment and hurt away. I loved him! I knew it in a flash. It wasn’t just a partnership and friendship any longer. It was love! And I thought I could see the same realization in his eyes. 

We’d been best friends, partners and pals since our first day at the academy. We’d worked, laughed and cried together. Even saved each other’s lives a few times. We’d been everything to each other. Well, nearly everything. 

Now I was looking at Hutch and his gaze seemed to tell me he was feeling the same things. Did I really see it, or was I simply wishing and hoping? 

I hadn’t moved consciously, but I found myself standing in front of him, our eyes still locked. I couldn’t look away. Don’t think he could either. 

Before I managed to ruin both our careers by kissing my partner in the middle of a jam packed mall, I blinked. 

Hutch opened his eyes wide, as if waking up from a dream. 

A piercing sound broke through my confusion as a young girl, maybe six or seven, came running down the mall, crying, pursued by an obviously harried woman. The girl threw herself on the tile floor near us and began to scream hysterically, pounding her fists on the hard surface. “Why can’t I have it?” she wailed. “I want it, I want it. I want it!” 

Security guards and concerned shoppers crowded around. The girl’s voice climbed in pitch and intensity. She obviously reveled in being the cause of all the ruckus.

 

THIRD LOOP - Hutch

The mall was a zoo without critters. Maddened shoppers were out of their cages and Christmas was still two days away. 

Starsky grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the space in the center of the atrium where Santa was enthroned, listening to children’s wish lists. 

“Come on, Hutch,” Starsky urged, cheerfully. “Sit on Santa’s knee and tell him what you want. Then I’ll bribe him to tell me.” He grinned with such childlike glee I couldn’t help but smile. 

Until I recognized the turkey in the red and white suit. “No way I’m getting anywhere near that reprobate, Starsk.” I stopped in my tracks and pulled him back to stand beside me. “That’s Carl Alton.”

Starsky looked more closely at the bleary-eyed excuse for Santa Claus, then turned back to me, exasperation and fury on his recently happy face. “Who’s bright idea was it to hire that drunken flasher for a gig like this?” He looked around, presumably for a mall cop. “We gotta call Security!”

“Wait a minute, Starsk.” I put a calming hand on his arm. “They probably couldn’t get anybody else. I heard Babcock say there’s a shortage of Santas everywhere this year, what with the flu and all.”

“Yeah,” Starsky remembered, sounding only slightly mollified. He cast another doubtful glance at the bewhiskered Alton. “And the last time we heard from him he was getting counseling, doing community service.” He sighed. “I guess, as long as he’s not hurting anybody, it’ll be okay.”

He turned back to me, a wounded look in his midnight blue eyes. “I really did want to see you on Santa’s knee though, Hutch. I need to hear your heart’s desire.” 

I fell into those deep blues and was lost. I’d tell him my heart’s desire if I had the courage. It was instantly difficult to breathe and I felt my fingers going numb. His eyes spoke to me, saying words I’d longed to hear but hadn’t dared hope for. Hadn’t stopped me from dreaming though. Dreams and fantasies I’d kept to myself, snug in my Maybe Someday World.

I felt Starsky put his hand on my arm but I didn’t break eye contact. His touch was like electricity and I thrilled to the voltage, amperage, whatever kind of charge it was. It literally turned me on!

A shriek tore through the noise of a thousand people.

I spun toward Santa’s throne. Carl Alton had fallen off the tall chair and was rolling down the red-carpeted stairs. His eyes were tightly closed in his flushed face, his neck drawn down into his padded costume. A small girl in a red velvet dress followed him down the steps, pounding on his shoulders, back, head, anything she could reach. 

“Wait ‘til I tell my daddy what you did, Santa,” she screamed. “Just you wait!”

 

FOURTH LOOP - Starsky

We’re never going to find anything in this crowd, I thought. As much as I love Christmas, this year may ruin my spirit. I have no idea what to get Hutch, much less where to find the items Captain Dobey asked us to look for. Where is Hutch anyway? 

I looked around and spotted him at the window of the electronics store. He’d found them! I hurried over. “Way to go, partner.”

Inside the store, a display held a rigid poster of Luke Skywalker, light saber held aloft, Princess Leia at his feet. The image was from the first film of course, but who cared? The sign on the table touted ‘The Light It Up Light Saber. Touch the first button and illuminate the shaft. Touch the second button to generate the distinctive sound. Batteries not included.’

On the other end of the table another stand-up poster showed Princess Leia surrounded by Ewoks. ‘Be the first to own the new, improved walking, talking Princess Leia doll. Carrie Fisher’s voice offers six characteristic epithets, among them, “You’re a little short for a storm trooper, aren’t you?” Batteries not included.’

Unfortunately, the table was bereft of both light sabers and dolls. 

Hutch couldn’t hide his disappointment. 

“It’s okay, buddy,” I commiserated. “This is a huge mall. Another store might have some left. Let’s keep looking.”

We began threading our way through the crowds. 

“What do Cal and Rosie want with dolls and light sabers anyway?” I grumbled, beginning to be frustrated and edgy for reasons I couldn’t even put my finger on. “Aren’t they too old for that kind of stuff?”

“Nobody’s ever too old for ‘Star Wars’, was Hutch’s sage reply. “I’m just glad Cal didn’t ask for a functional Blaster.” 

I smiled back. “Rosie might have wanted a life sized stuffed bantha.”

Hutch laughed and put his arm around my shoulders. Walking past more stores, I felt his posture gradually stiffen and his muscles tense. 

He suddenly stopped and looked at me. “Starsk…” Uncertainty clouded his expression, his voice sounded confused. “Do you get the feeling we’ve done all this more than once?”

I stopped and stared at him, realizing he’d identified the cause of my own discomfort. “Yeah.”

“I think saw a train I wanted to get you,” he mused. “But it crashed.”

“I wanted to buy you a guitar,” I told him. “But a bratty kid threw a tantrum.”

“There was something about a Santa Claus,” he muttered, puzzled.

I dragged him out of the press of people and into the recessed entrance to a vacant store. I felt myself begin to blush but fought it down. Forcing a calmness I didn’t feel, I looked into his questioning eyes. “I remember… I think… I wanted to kiss you.”

Hutch blinked, his mind unmistakably racing, before he smiled softly. “ And I wanted to kiss you.” He ducked his head self-consciously. “Think I almost did once.”

“Me, too.” I chuckled. “A couple of times.”

“But we stopped,” Hutch noted. 

“All hell broke loose right afterward, too,” I agreed. “Every time.”

“What if we really did it?” Hutch wondered out loud. “Could things get any worse than the craziness we think we’ve already seen?”

I shuddered. “Don’t ask.” I suddenly wanted to make the sign against the evil eye. Except I didn’t know the sign, and don’t believe in the ‘evil eye.’

I looked at him, as I think I remembered gazing at him at various times all night. I leaned toward him when he bent his head and, as if we could no longer fight the inevitable, our lips met. I was kissing my male partner. In an alcove of a packed shopping mall on the night before The Night Before Christmas. And it felt so absolutely right and perfect nothing was going to stop me except, possibly, a major earthquake. 

I put my hands on his waist, to steady us, I guess. He put his hands on my shoulders, maybe to keep me from floating. His lips were as soft and sweet as I’d imagined, and I reveled in their touch.

I didn’t want to press my luck so I kept my mouth closed. I simply kissed the man I’d fallen in love with. 

“Merry Christmas!” someone called, heartily. I felt a pat on my back.

I broke away from Hutch, turning to look at the unknown man as he sent a friendly wave and disappeared in the throng. I dropped my hands just as Hutch dropped his, but I couldn’t look at him. I felt his fingers graze my chin though and finally looked up, sheepishly.

“No chaos,” Hutch reported, quietly. “No train wrecks, tantrums, or drunk Santa Clauses.” He smiled and I knew everything would be okay. 

I also knew I had my answer about his gift. “I know what I want to give you for Christmas, Hutch.”

“Yeah?” he asked, all seriousness. “What’s that?”

“Me.”

“Aw, Starsk.” He wrapped his long arms around me and hugged me fiercely. “That’s so perfect. We’ll give each other…”

“Ourselves,” I finished, flinging my arms around him. “I’ve wanted to for a long time, babe, I just haven’t had the courage. You already have my heart, but I want to give you my body and soul.”

“Don’t ever let anyone say you don’t have a way with words, partner.” Hutch’s voice was husky. “That was beautiful.”

I stepped back but kept my hands on his waist. “Then it’s okay?” 

“It’s more than okay, Starsk.” Hutch’s eyes were glistening. “It’s what I’ve been dreaming of.” He kissed me again, very lightly. “You won’t be sorry.”

“What ‘sorry’?” I huffed. “Love means never having to say….” I grinned at him and he returned it, doubled.

We walked out of our alcove. I put my arm around his shoulders and he put his around mine. It didn’t feel as if we needed to hurry, we had all the time in the world now. 

As we approached the Barnes and Nobel store, a short, portly man in a green apron, beckoned to us. “Are you by any chance, Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson?” He looked at Hutch first, then me.

“He’s Starsky,” Hutch corrected, clearly trying not laugh in the good man’s face, “I’m Hutchinson.”

“Capital!” the little man went on, happily. “I have things for you.” He hurried into the store. 

I bowed Hutch in ahead of me, then followed, a hand lightly on his back. For some reason I needed to be in contact with him. I didn’t trust that we’d found our way out of whatever Twilight Zone situation we’d been in. Not yet. I was still a little spooked.

“Your captain called earlier,” the bookseller told us as he made his way through the browsers toward the cashier’s counter. There was a long line of book laden people waiting to pay. The helpful man reached underneath a table and brought out a large shopping bag. Holding it open, he displayed the contents cheerfully. “He said he’d tried every other store in the mall. So these must be the last ones.”

The much sought after Light Saber and Princess Leia doll were nestled in tissue paper inside the commodious parcel. 

“I told him I’d save them for him,” the man continued. “Then he explained that he’d asked his two best detectives to try and find them. He described you both perfectly.” He blushed a little. “He just didn’t tell me which one of you was which.”

“Happens all the time.” I nudged Hutch, lightly.

“How much do we owe you, sir?” Hutch pulled out his wallet.

“Oh, it’s all taken care of,” the man assured him. “Your captain gave me his credit card. The receipt’s in the bag.” He smiled. “Along with two sets of fresh batteries.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Hutch, putting his wallet back in his pocket.

“My pleasure.” The man held out the bag. “Name’s Garrison, in case you need to bring either item back.”

“No chance of that, sir.” I took the handles. “These are going to a good home.”

“Thanks, Mr. Garrison.” Hutch shook his pudgy hand. “We’ll be sure and tell Captain Dobey what a help you’ve been.”

“Merry Christmas, Detectives!” The elfin book pusher smiled and turned to help the next customer in line.

Hutch put his arm back around my shoulders as we walked out of the store. He glanced at his watch and I could tell from the tension in his posture that he was a little nervous about our next step. I slipped my free arm around his waist.

“I’m going to take the initiative here, buddy, and suggest we go back to my place.”

“Suits me, Starsk.” Hutch actually sounded relieved. “Anywhere away from these crowds. And whatever was causing that… repetition.”

I couldn’t have agreed more. 

We were passing the music store when a young clerk darted out, stopped in front of Hutch and held a Polaroid photo up next to my partner’s startled face. “Yep,” the man stated, proudly. “You’re the one.”

“‘The one’ what?” Hutch’s tone and posture were guarded.

“The winner of tonight’s drawing!” The clerk grabbed Hutch’s elbow and began dragging him toward the store. 

Hutch stopped in his tracks, halting the startled man’s progress.

“What’s wrong?” The guy appeared upset. “You’ve won the guitar!”

“What guitar?” I inquired, since Hutch appeared speechless.

“The one he was looking at earlier,” the clerk explained. “Every day this week, we’ve taken pictures of each person who stared at the guitar in the window for more than thirty seconds.” He gestured toward a lovely instrument, the one Starsky thought he remembered Hutch gazing at during some point in his foggy, fuzzy memory. “Then, just before closing, we draw the winning photo.” He pointed at Hutch. “Tonight, it’s you!”

Hutch shook off the youngster’s hand and smiled. “Thanks, but you can draw another picture.”

I was flabbergasted. Hutch had just won the guitar of his dreams and he wasn’t going to take it? “Hutch….”

He turned to me, a look of such peace in his eyes, I thought I might cry. “I have a guitar, sir.” Hutch spoke quietly, never looking away from my astonished gaze. “It was given to me by my three best friends. It’s in the shop right now but, as soon as it’s well, it’ll be the best one I’ve ever owned.” 

He looked over his shoulder at the stunned clerk. “You can give yours to someone else.”

Hutch turned back to me and his eyes poured love into my soul. 

“I have everything I could ever want, right now,” he said, loudly enough for the clerk to hear. He bent and took the handles of the Barnes and Nobel bag from me, holding my eyes. “Let’s go home, Starsk.” 

My throat was full of tears but I managed to get the words past them. “You read my mind, partner.”

I waved at the clerk who’d probably never had anyone turn down a prize before. “Merry Christmas, kid.”

Hutch and I went home and discovered what gift giving and receiving were all about. 

 

END

Happy Holidays to all of you who keep Starsky and Hutch alive.


	5. Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this story came to me at about 2am. When I hadn’t gotten back to sleep by 4, I got up and wrote it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entry was behind Door #24.

“What’s wrong, Starsk? You seem kind of tense tonight.”

“I’m just gettin’ a little tired of it, Hutch. That’s all.”

“Tired of what?”

“Them.”

“‘Them’ who?”

“The ones who’re watchin’ all the time. Lookin’ over our shoulders. Writin’ their stories and lettin’ their friends read ‘em.”

“Oh, them.”

“Yeah. I mean, what’s wrong with all the other shows? Why do they have to write about us all the time?”

“They don’t, Starsk. Fandom’s huge. There are millions of stories out there. Only a tiny proportion are about us.”

“Well, ours are the only ones I know about.”

“Good point.”

“What about ‘CHiPs’? Why don’t they --”

“Uh, Starsk…”

“Yeah, bad example. Sorry. But seriously, Hutch, what’d be wrong with writing about, oh say, ‘Emergency’?”

“I’m sure there are…”

“Gage and DeSoto. Now there was a team! Blond, dark, pals, buddies. Hmmm. I always wondered about them.”

“Starsky…”

“Or better yet, ‘The Man From U.N.C.L.E’! I loved that show. Always thought there was something about that stuck-up Napoleon Solo I didn’t like though.”

“Starsky!…”

“Kuryakin now, he was damn cute!”

_“Starsky!”_

“What? Awwww, is my Hutchiepoo jealous?”

“I felt a twinge.”

“I’m pullin’ your leg, babe. You gotta know you’re the only blond that does it for me. Now and forever!”

“Good.”

“He was too short anyway.”

“True.”

“‘Adam-12’ though. Now there was a series! Remember the one where Malloy was trapped in his wrecked car?”

“In a canyon…”

“In Griffith Park. Geez, Hutch, I just realized. That’s like what happened to you.”

“In almost the same place.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up --”

“Reed found him.”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Just like you found me.”

“‘We made it, partner’.”

“We sure did, Starsk.”

“My point is, Hutch, I’m startin’ to get a little self-conscious.”

“I haven’t noticed any performance anxiety.”

“Thanks, but I think that’s what I’m feelin’ sometimes. We never have a minute to ourselves. They’re always hoverin’, takin’ notes, writin’ stuff down.”

“It’s called research, Starsk.”

“I don’t care what it’s called! It’s an invasion of our privacy.”

“They are quite persistent, aren’t they?”

“I’ll say! They’re everywhere: here, your place, Metro, on stakeouts, in the squad room. I can’t even take a piss without one of ‘em snickerin’.”

“Are you sure it’s snickering, Starsk? Always sounds more like a sigh to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re hung better ‘n I am.”

“That’s not true, and you know it. We’re just… hung… differently.”

“You’re long and fair and huge, Hutch. When you do me your cock reaches all the way to my heart.”

“Aw, Starsk, I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“It’s true, an’ just thinkin’ about it makes me want you inside me right now.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Not with them watchin’. Not this time.”

“Starsky, think about this for a minute. If they didn’t write their stories, and let all their friends read them, we wouldn’t be here.”

“What?”

“We were only on for four seasons. A very long time ago. But we’re still around. We’re still young.”

“Not all the time. We’re old in some of the stories. We even die in some.”

“Yes, sometimes. One or the other of us.”

“That sucks.”

“I know. But we’re younger in some of them, too.”

“Yeah. The stories about you when you were a kid, growing up in Duluth? The times you spent with your grandfather? I love those.”

“I love the ones about you when you were in Brooklyn.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get along too well with your parents, Hutch. Those stories hurt me.”

“And I’m sorry you lost your father so early.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“We’re still here though, buddy. And as long as they keep writing their stories, we’ll stay here. Young, handsome, virile…”

“Successful cops, roundin’ up the bad guys and puttin’ ‘em in jail.”

“So that the court system can let them out.”

“Don’t be stealin’ my thunder, Hutch. I’m the one in the grouchy mood.”

“Anything I can do about that, pal?”

“Leave your hand there for a second and we’ll see.”

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Starsk, or I’ll do it for you.”

“Like t’ see you try.”

……………. 

“How was that?”

“I think I love you.”

“Oh Lord, do I hear a David Cassidy song there?”

“Yeah, you do. Sing it for me, Hutch.”

“No, Starsk, not now. I don’t even have my guitar.”

“You don’t need the guitar. Sing it. Please?”

I think I love you  
So what am I so afraid of?  
I’m afraid that I’m not sure of  
A love there is no cure for.

I think I love you  
Isn’t that what life is made of?  
Though it worries me to say  
That I’ve never felt this way.

I don’t know what I’m up against  
I don’t know what it’s all about  
I got so much to think about

Believe me, you really don’t have to worry  
I only want to make you happy  
And, if you say, “Hey, go away,” I will  
But I think better still  
I’d better stay around and love you  
Do you think I have a case? Let me ask you to your face

Do you think you love me?  
I think I love you  
I think I love you  
I think I love you

“That’s what I wanted t’ hear, babe.”

“I don’t have to think about it, Starsk. I love you.”

“Me, too. So, where were we?”

“You were ranting about ‘them’ and I was trying to seduce you.”

“Did you succeed?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, what’re you waitin’ for?”

“A sign from you.”

“Oh. You mean something like this?”

“That’ll do. Shall we adjourn to the bedroom?”

“After you.”

“It won’t do any good to close the door, Starsk.”

“I know, but it’ll make me feel better.”

“Then, by all means, close it.”

“Can I help with your clothes, Blondie?”

“Only if I can help with yours.”

“Deal.”

“God, Starsky, I never get over how beautiful you are. And it doesn’t seem to matter how old they write you in the stories, or how young. You’re just… beautiful.”

“Ever look in the mirror? Check the word ‘gorgeous’ in the dictionary and there’s a picture of you.”

“Flatterer.”

“Truth speaker.”

“We’ll discuss our mutual admiration society in the morning, okay? Right now, my curly-haired lover, I want to satisfy your every need.”

“You’re makin’ a good start there, Hutch. More… a little lower… Ah, yeah, that’s sooooooo good.”

“Still worried about them, Starsk?”

“‘Them’ who?”

 

END

“I Think I Love You” written by Gordon Strozier, Gerald Andre Valentine and Melvin Riley, Jr.


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